45. XLV. THE WANDERER. (continued)
And if all ladders henceforth fail thee, then must thou learn to mount upon
thine own head: how couldst thou mount upward otherwise?
Upon thine own head, and beyond thine own heart! Now must the gentlest in
thee become the hardest.
He who hath always much-indulged himself, sickeneth at last by his much-indulgence.
Praises on what maketh hardy! I do not praise the land where
butter and honey--flow!
To learn TO LOOK AWAY FROM oneself, is necessary in order to see MANY
THINGS:--this hardiness is needed by every mountain-climber.
He, however, who is obtrusive with his eyes as a discerner, how can he ever
see more of anything than its foreground!
But thou, O Zarathustra, wouldst view the ground of everything, and its
background: thus must thou mount even above thyself--up, upwards, until
thou hast even thy stars UNDER thee!
Yea! To look down upon myself, and even upon my stars: that only would I
call my SUMMIT, that hath remained for me as my LAST summit!--
Thus spake Zarathustra to himself while ascending, comforting his heart
with harsh maxims: for he was sore at heart as he had never been before.
And when he had reached the top of the mountain-ridge, behold, there lay
the other sea spread out before him: and he stood still and was long
silent. The night, however, was cold at this height, and clear and starry.
I recognise my destiny, said he at last, sadly. Well! I am ready. Now
hath my last lonesomeness begun.
Ah, this sombre, sad sea, below me! Ah, this sombre nocturnal vexation!
Ah, fate and sea! To you must I now GO DOWN!
Before my highest mountain do I stand, and before my longest wandering:
therefore must I first go deeper down than I ever ascended:
--Deeper down into pain than I ever ascended, even into its darkest flood!
So willeth my fate. Well! I am ready.